


Sollux:

by Elendraug



Category: Homestuck, The Homestuck Epilogues - Fandom
Genre: Gen, The Homestuck Epilogues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 07:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: Contains spoilers for The Homestuck Epilogues.





	Sollux:

**Author's Note:**

> Music is _Gold Pilot_ , if you like.

Your name is Sollux Captor.

You have been left on the balcony of a bell tower in the Carapace Kingdom.

> Think about how you came to be here.

You have been left on the balcony, blind, without your psychopomp, who’s been leading you like the dead, with a hand on your waist and fingertips on your horns despite the status of your mortality.

You used to seem sad and angry all the time, but now she’s the life of any given corpse party, and these meandering moments in waiting have been, for the most part, what you would consider _good_. Within the scheme of your own suppositions, you would also venture to call them _essential_.

She wanted to see what would happen when the whole place broke apart. You wanted to spend time with her and chill out and catch up with some of your dead buddies. You both got what you wanted, for a time, and for all you know, it’s been all of time.

She’s left you before, of course. She left you lying on your own floor, long enough to arise with a sweet substance in your mouth enough to kill your lusus and collapse your hive. She left you when she embraced you and promptly exploded into shrapnel. She left you with more questions than answers, always following in her footsteps, charting a path through unnavigable spaces in this local continuum. Regardless, or even because of it, beside her is where you’ve wanted to be.

But this has all gotten to be a bit much for you, and she’s cut you loose.

> Consider your options.

Maybe you’ll find comfort in the arms of your comrade, a Karkat you spoke to last years before by his own accounting. He perceives himself as so much older, now, but how much would he have changed? Would he refuse you solace if you sought it? Would he catch you and carry and console you as he did when you were first blinded? Is he still blaming himself, even now, for your lack of a lisp?

Maybe you’ll turn to Kanaya instead, always a light in dark times, as protective of the blood within your veins as she’s ever been. She could hold you and stroke your hair and tell you that things are All Right, even when they are clearly not, and you could politely ignore the sarcasm that edges into her tone, once or twice. Maybe Rose would welcome you, as well, even though you renounced humanity itself sweeps ago, when you were still counting in sweeps, in a computer lab of your own creation. 

Maybe you’ll take a stab at trusting a Serket, against whatever judgment you can claim to have remaining at this juncture, since the fight between she and her is long past, and with you as the buried hatchet and no words spared regarding your autonomy. She remembers a far different timeline than you, but setting aside all else and all of your issues she could justify, she’s one of the closest who remain relative to your frame of reference, with nothing to be sought from the corpse of a clown who’s maybe even escaped back above. You never know with clowns.

Maybe you’ll sift through the fallen ghosts. Maybe you’ll find your place with him, or with her, or with them. Maybe you’ll even find someone who remembers the _you_ that you are. Someone who remembers you, specifically. Someone who knew you when you were young.

Maybe you won’t.

> Consider your opinions.

Your existence has always been marginal, as the best battery to ever power a series of plot devices, so you see no reason you shouldn’t stay on this side of an imaginary line that divides the narrative layout. You’ll be left in irrelevance by her as she seeks something more, something that you’re too tired to pursue.

All voices are gone and have been, now so more than ever, with the sole exception of the single flattened subharmonic tone that you feel in your bones, metaphorically speaking.

If you were to find your final self, within some semblance of an ultimatum between you and your very cognizance of your identity, you aren’t sure it’s worth expending the effort to conceptualize it. What is doom without the finality of death, with a clock refusing to tick toward, all particles and perspicacity stilled within this sensory deprivation chamber, the short forever within this singularity? Is it found in purple petals, rusty red flowed through with an external source of blue, dyed as it’s drawn up through its xylem, to mask its original form?

You’ve seen your supposedly superfluous selves, the versions you’d hesitate to call copies save for a slip of the tongue, garbed in green and manipulating magic, or smiling inexplicably with fingers interlaced with hands you’d hate to touch. You don’t need their minds merged into yours; you’ve hosted enough nonsense within your pan and so have they. It’s time to put a stop to this, now that you’ve isolated this sought-after silence.

> Think about why you came to be here.

You’re here because you’ve played your part, and your part is now past. If it’s a reassuring thought, we could envision a beehive within this bell tower, as this structure has been abandoned by its dead author and subsequently given up for us to finish any relevant extrapolation, to add anything that would lend exposition to your section of this neverending story.

You’re here on this side of the wormhole, with all action above, and none below. There’s a permanence to the passage through that liminal space, and you’re now eternally barred access to what’s taking place beyond this. You’re here because, as painful as it is to imagine for those who care about you, in some way you must have wanted to be.

I’m not here to talk you out of it. I just wanted to give you the courtesy of closure, because I love you.

But you’re okay with it.


End file.
